


Proud-Eyed and Prodigal

by Araine



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: F/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araine/pseuds/Araine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patterns change and rearrange. For once, Loki chases and Sif runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proud-Eyed and Prodigal

When Loki first disappeared, Sif mourned him in silence.

\--

Sif’s footsteps were metric as she walked across the marble floor of the human dwelling. Chin up, eyes straight ahead – locked upon the man before her lounging like a king on a couch. His dark hair was swept back, as always, displaying rigid cheekbones and penetrating eyes.

He looked strange, in human clothes: a dark jacket over a white shirt, a slash of green fabric pulled snug around his slender neck. He was handsome but cold; like steel and pale moonlight. His face was carefully bland, as though her presence wasn’t worth a reaction.

Sif came to a stop. “So you are here,” she said.

“Congratulations, Sif,” Loki said. He spread his arms magnanimously. Sif found the gesture and the blank expression suddenly offensive. “You found me.”

“Heimdall found you,” Sif said. “I just came to give you a message. From your father.”

Loki’s lips puffed out in half a laugh, his eyes rolled. “Well you can assure my father that I have no intention of returning,” he said. “In fact, I—“

“Your father the king asks your return,” Sif said. “And so does your mother, Queen Frigga. And your brother.”

It was obvious in the way his eyes darted about the room, settling on concrete and dust, and the way his jaw clenched, further emphasizing his cheekbones, thin lips even thinner. He was hurting.

“As I was saying,” Loki said. Slowly, every word held with exertion. “I quite enjoy it here, on earth. I lived my whole life in that sanctimonious court, always second best. Why would I ever want to return, when I’m appreciated here?”

Sif’s left fist balled at her side, her right clutched her sword so tightly that the leather grip groaned. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to punch him in the mouth, and if she weren’t a room’s length away she might. “Because your family misses you!” she said. “And you miss them too!”  
Loki was silent for a long moment. Sif was so tightly wound her stomach seemed to close in upon itself. She looked into Loki’s very green eyes.

“And what do you think?” he asked. “Do you want me to return, sniveling and contrite, to beg my father’s forgiveness?”

Did she wish for his return? She had often wished, in the days when she mourned him for dead, that their halcyon days might return. Unexpectedly, she had missed his teasing wit and surpassing eloquence, and she had longed for frenzied kisses in dark alcoves and the feel of his lips against her breastbone and all other places.

Sif did not think that she missed this Loki, but she had not been asked here only to spurn him.

“Your brother wants you home,” she said.

 _“I don’t want to hear about what my brother wants!”_

His voice echoed on marble, a sudden slap of sound. Sif refused to be moved by his sudden loss of composure. She planted her feet firmly on the floor, and raised her chin in a silent challenge, but Loki did not rise to it. Instead his expression smoothed.

“I suppose that you make your answer clear,” Loki said, the tilt of his head hinting subtle mockery within his mildness. “I’m almost offended. I thought that there was more history between us. But you won’t even answer a question straight.”

“Stop twisting my words Loki,” Sif said.

“You’re angry,” Loki said. He tilted his head, looked over Sif sidelong. His long eyelashes obscured his green eyes. That look poured liquid steel deep in her gut, and Sif hated him for it.

“I mourned your death in secret for a year,” Sif said. “And then I finally meet you here in Midgard, reveling in your superiority, as if it would kill you to repent for nearly murdering a sentient species. And _then_ you wonder that I am angry.”

Loki – about to speak – leaned forward, but Sif had no mind to hear his quicksilver tongue. She cut his words before they rose from his mouth. “Don’t return to Asgard, Loki,” she said. His gaze was hard, and she stared back into his eyes with a steady challenge. “We have no need of spoilt children there.”

Sif turned, footsteps clockwork and mechanical all the way to the door. If he gave any parting remarks, she ignored them.

\--

Eventually, Loki did return, proud-eyed and prodigal as he was escorted to the throne room by three honor guard. Sif’s eyes were on his face as he approached the queen and king and their eldest son.

Underneath the pride and careful nonchalance, he looked the part of some stunned animal – half unsure if he should bolt or bite – his jaw set and weight forward on his toes. And for just a moment, surfeit green eyes traced first Thor, then Frigga and Odin.

A grin broadened Thor’s face, and he suddenly caught his brother around the shoulder in a one-armed hug. One of Loki’s arms bent and then fell limp. Sif realized with astonishment that the brightness of his eyes came from unshed tears.

Thor drew back. “Welcome home, brother,” he said. “It is good to have you back.”

Frigga and Odin came right after, the queen clasping his hands tightly in hers, the king clasping his second son’s shoulder. Loki’s family clustered around him. Cautiousness still marked his face, but Sif recognized the way Loki leaned unconsciously into them.

Over his father’s shoulder, Loki’s eyes searched out Sif’s. They were bright with unspoken entreaty.

The muscles in Sif’s jaw clenched and released. She turned and left the throne room.

\--

Sif found Loki later, leaning on a balcony rail and glazing down at the repairs to the Bifröst far below. It still glittered in all colors of the spectrum, but there was no longer a gateway to the other realms at the end. From here Sif with her sharp eyes could just make out Heimdall, a tiny figure at the edge.

She would have passed him without comment, but Loki suddenly spoke her name.

Sif halted. Her eyes flickered over his form, finally halting on his elbows bent and resting against the rail.

“That is all my fault,” Loki said.

“Yes,” Sif said. “It is.” The look of raw pain in Loki’s eyes made Sif’s chest ache, but she refused to heed it. Loki was the liar, not her. “What did you want?” she asked, instead.

He turned his green eyes upon her, and the ache worsened with sudden and traitorous longing for him.

“Join me?” he entreated.

Sif said no word, only slowly leaned on the rail beside Loki. He said nothing, either. His eyes flickered over the view below. Sif wondered what he might be thinking, in that head where thoughts existed both fleeting and deep. She could not remember a day when she had to hesitate to ask him.

“Say something,” Sif said. “Or I’m going to leave.”

His eyes flickered with mirth. “Idleness was never your forte,” Loki said.

Sif exhaled her annoyance quickly. “Nor yours,” she said. “I hardly recall a time you weren’t laughing behind your hands at some scheme.”

“Yes,” Loki said. “Up here on the balcony with nobody around, I’m sure I would have found plenty of things to occupy my time.” His eyes slowly climbed from the bend in her knees until they met hers, reflecting his rakish smile.

Sif stilled. Loki’s casual and carefree smile remained, but there was a cautious pinch to the corners of his eyes. Sif licked her lips and looked at the railing. The distance between their pinkies was nothing more than a few inches. Even from that far, she could somehow feel the heat of his body.

She would not cross that distance for all the heat of Muspell.

“It’s been a long time since you stole kisses in alcoves,” Sif said. She pushed off from the railing and walked away.

\--

Sif was sweat-streaked and dirty from the practice field. She wiped a hand against her brow to keep the sweat from stinging her eyes and took several deep breaths, and then dropped into a fighting stance.

Volstagg charged her, but Sif nimbly jumped out of the way of his axe. They met with a clash of metal, Volstagg throwing his tremendous weight against her, Sif turning that to her advantage and using his bulk to throw his balance and strike quick hits.

They both knew each other’s movements and strategies, after so many years, and it was a challenge to think up new ways to break the others defenses.

Sif dodged a sweep of Volstagg’s axe and then went stock still.

“Stop,” she said. Her opponent stopped his next attack.

“Sif?” Volstagg asked. “What is it?” Hogun, Fandral and Thor had also stopped the bouts.

“It’s Loki,” Sif said. He was standing there on the edge of the practice field, staring at the five of them as they sparred, feet planted wide and arms limp, expression closed off. He was hurt, Sif realized. They—Loki’s friends—had fallen into new patterns in his absence. Patterns that no longer included him.

Loki looked at all of them, and he grimaced. He turned to walk away.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice carried across the practice field. “Stay! We’ve an odd number and need an extra sparring partner!”

Sif felt the tension in her stomach as she waited for Loki’s response. Eventually, he turned back around and walked into the practice field. Sif found that, for once in her life, she could not meet Loki’s eyes.

\--

When Jane Foster mentioned that she would like very much to see the library, Thor said, “Well then, we shall show you the library,” in his declaratory voice.

“And how many years has it been since you were in the library?” Hogun needled him.

Thor conceded with a nod. “Loki does know his way around much better than I do,” he said. “Why don’t you go get him, Sif?”

Sif’s head had jerked up sharply at her name. “Why me?” she said.

“Because if I send somebody else, my brother won’t come,” Thor said. This was true. Loki had been habitually awkward around the Earth girl, and had taken to seclusion rather than interact with her, but Sif was still more likely to draw him out than anyone else. Lacking any real reason to protest, she instead stood and left to find Loki.

The second prince was in his room, and already reading. His room, as usual, was a recreation in miniature of the library. Sif knocked on the doorframe, rather than come in.

Loki spun and looked into her face. She could not read the emotions in him, even as they rose to the surface.

“Sif,” he said pleasantly. “This is certainly a surprise.”

“Lady Jane has said she wishes to see the library,” Sif said.

“I see,” Loki said. “And because he cannot possibly navigate it adequately, he asked for my help.” Loki carefully closed his book and set it atop the closest of his many stacks. Sif wondered – not for the first time – how he managed to keep organized. “Well, I accept.”

Sif kept stride with him as he walked toward the library.

“Are you afraid I’ll run if you don’t keep an eye on me?” Loki asked.

“Frankly, yes,” Sif said.

“I’ve seen dogs herd, but never a horse before this moment. It’s true, then, that if you live long enough, you see the strangest things.”

He dodged the punch to the arm with practiced ease, and then stopped – suddenly still, eyes searching her face. Sif, too, paused, fingers still curled but all energy gone from her right arm. They stood awkwardly for a moment, each picking apart how quickly they had fallen into earlier roles.

Sif’s fist came apart one finger at a time. She crossed her arms, and then crossed them again another way.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said. His voice barely carried.

Sif wanted to blame him. Everything had changed between them, because Loki was too clever by half, and they would both be fools to think it could ever return to what once had been. Instead she said, “Why did you come back?”

“I missed home,” Loki said. “So very much. I repented for my sins and came back.”

“Stop lying to me,” Sif said. “What’s the real reason?”

Loki said nothing, but his eyes held on her for a moment too long. His long lashes fluttered. Sif had long since learned that Loki was more truthful with his eyes than any other part of him. There was a world of unspoken truths there.

Sif cleared her throat and said, “Thor’s probably getting impatient.”

Thor was very obviously not impatient, at the doors to the library. Neither was Jane. Sif had joined the others in teasing her prince about how much he kissed the earth girl, of course, but this was beyond superfluous.

Loki rolled his eyes at her, a gesture nearly as old as their friendship, and then looked suddenly apologetic. Sif thought about elbowing him, but simply rolled her eyes back. A smirk flickered on the edge of Loki’s lips, and then suddenly Sif could barely make out the edges of him.

Grin threatening her stoicism, Sif watched from afar as Loki crept up to the two and coughed. Loudly.

Thor and Jane broke apart, both red faced and looking around frantically. Loki revealed himself.

“Loki,” Thor said dangerously. And then he laughed. “I deserved that.”

“Yes,” Sif said. “You did.”

“Perhaps, brother,” Loki said diplomatically. “It would be best to limit such displays of affection to times when you are not waiting on others.”

“Well,” Jane Foster said, brushing her hair into place, “that’s about the most convoluted way I’v eheard anyone say ‘get a room’, but message received. You were going to show me the library?”

Loki looked at Thor for approval, and then turned to Jane. “Yes,” he said. “I believe I am. What would you like to see first?”

“Well, if you have any books on the Einstein-Rosen—I mean, your rainbow bridge,” Jane said. “I brought my research and I’d really love to compare—“ Jane held up a small black notebook, earnest-faced and smiling.

“You’re interested in the Bifröst,” Loki said. Sif could only hear the catch in his voice because she was listening for it. Loki looked at his brother once again, and then said, “Very well. Follow me.”

Sif hung back with Thor, slowly following Loki and Jane into the depths of the library. Loki’s stride was quick: confident as he fell into his comfort zone, and halfway to the magics and mathematics section, he began pointing out the different sections of the library to a wide-eyed Jane. They soon disappeared around a corner.

“Shall we go back?” Sif asked Thor. “Or spar some?”

“Why?” Thor asked. “Reading is a fine pastime. Why don’t you join us, Sif?”

They had caught up to their companions. Jane had acquired three books on the Bifröst and settled down on the floor, books and notes spread about her. Loki had acquired reading of his own.

Sif watched him. He was bent in concentration, intent on the pages before him, lips slightly pursed and his dark hair just poised to fall into his green eyes. He looked more boyish and open when he was reading than ever before.

Long-fingered hands skimmed the edge of a page and held it ready to flip as he read the very end lines. With her eyes, Sif traced the edge of his collar.

Loki looked up from his book, and his eyes flickered over her face in a silent question.

“You only wish to be sickeningly in love with Jane,” Sif said. “I am going to go beat something up.”

\--

“I thought I’d find you here,” Loki said. Sif, dressed in plain linens, stopped her stretching exercises. Loki’s booted feet crunched across the dirt floor of the training yard. “Any time I ask where Sif might be found, the answer is so commonly the training yard.”

“You know my habits,” Sif said, turning to face him.

“Not as well as I thought I did,” Loki said. “You’re avoiding me.”

Sif glared at him, sharp-eyed.

“I would have never thought the mighty Sif the type to run away from something,” Loki said.

“Are you calling me a coward?” Sif said. She clenched her fist, to emphasize her point. “I’ll prove that I am not, right here where we stand.”

“Cowardice and courage are subjective. What one considers cowardice, another may consider prudence. I only wanted to see you, Sif. To… make amends.” His green eyes beckoned hers. Behind his collar, his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Spar with me,” Sif said. “And maybe I’ll consider it. _If_ you fight fair.”

“I always fight fair,” Loki said. “It is through no fault of mine that you are unable to keep up.” He launched nimbly forward and struck a quick blow. Sif struck back, a growl in her throat. They moved against each other in quick and practiced circles, ducking and blocking and striking, faster and faster in a cyclone of speed.

Loki managed a hold on Sif’s arm, and tried to throw her. She held on, dragging him down with her, and together they tumbled onto the dirt.

Sif pinned Loki with one leg and held him against the floor. He was breathing hard, sweating, his stomach hot against her thigh. Loki was not struggling to break her hold. Something had changed in the air, and it made Sif’s mouth dry up.

She looked down at Loki’s face – all sharp cheekbones and thin lips and long nose and hair barely falling into his very green eyes – and realized how close it actually was. Loki looked back up at Sif, his lips parting slightly.

“I’ll show you cowardice,” Sif said. She grabbed Loki’s shirt, pulled him up and crashed her lips to his.

His tongue darted against her lips, teasing her teeth and then retreating. Sif tightened her grip on his shoulders and rolled her hips against his waist. If Loki’s tongue was quicksilver then Sif’s was tempered steel. It attacked, plunging into his mouth with aim and determination. She didn’t care that he tasted of sweat and dust.

Afterwards she was breathless, and not quite sure if that was the sparring or the kiss, but she did know that Loki’s green eyes had lit up as if there were fire behind them and it had jumped to her stomach and straight through to her fingertips.

One of his long-fingered hands caught her chin and drew her in for another long kiss. Slow. Languid.

Sif would have none of that. She shoved him against the dirt floor and kissed him again. His fingers tickled her waist and then her thigh. Sif bit angrily at his lip, but Loki continued.

They parted for air. Sif counted his heaving breaths as they made her hips rise.

“So,” Loki said glibly. “Am I forgiven?”

A smirk edged his mouth, but his green eyes watched carefully.

“Only,” Sif said, “if you get on your knees and beg me.”

She pressed the smirk from the edge of his lips with her mouth.

\--

Loki disappeared from Asgard a month later, but this time Sif knew better. He would flicker in and out of her life like a shadow under moonlight.

Sif wasn’t about to let him disappear.


End file.
